King Township footbridges

Humber Trails Forest & Wildlife Conservation Area

Jackman's Suspension Bridge over the Humber

Marsh Marigolds at Cold Creek Forest & Wildlife Area

~

Have you walked over a footbridge today? Go ahead. Get out there and listen to the birds. Breathe some fresh air. Listen to a stream trickling. I hope you have a great time. BtheB

A haiku or two

Parts of me are dead
Yet I am walking about
Amazing no one

I grew a gray beard

To conceal a weary heart

And unhappy face

Dark leaves of night fall

Quietly covering me

Head and heart debrief

Snide cuts of loathing

Seek their intended victim

Bathed in my tears

Forget the stockings

your bare legs should entwine mine

yes the panties too

King City's 'Great Blue' Heronry

Wikipedia Photo

King City has been home to a Great Blue Heron heronry for decades. It is located in the southern part of King City, in a hardwood swamp at the back of the old Rumble farm. Bruce Rumble told me a couple of weeks ago that 30 or more years ago there were 30 to 40 nests occupied in the heronry. As King City has grown and people have encroached on the site, which is now owned by land developers, the herons have made themselves continuously scarce. Two years ago I found only one nest being used and last year, none.

Good new, though, as there are at least 10 nests in use this spring and there may be a few more, but I wanted to keep my distance and disturb the nesting birds as little as possible. Who knows why the resurgence in interest at this location? It's great to see the return of the Great Blue Herons and the site is protected by the Township of King through designations as an Environmental Protection Area and as an Area of Natural Scientific Interest, as well by the the Oak Ridges Moraine Act. Now that sewers are being installed in King City and the village will double in size over the next 10 to 15 years, one has to wonder about the future of King City's heronry. In the meantime, we'll enjoy it while we can. I hope you enjoying the spring migration.

Please comment if you wish. BtheB

Episcopalian boys and Catholic girls

I was doing some research, a few days ago, for the family history book I'm writing and ran across an interesting item about my wife's Glass family ancestors in the 1851 Canada Census data, which has recently become available to genealogists on the internet. I was looking for Hugh Glass who was an immigrant to Canada in the early 1800s from Ireland. He and his family had been enumerated on their farm in Vaughan Township. Hugh was described as a 45-year-old farmer who had been born in Ireland in 1806. His wife, Nancy, 43, was also born in Ireland in 1808. Hugh's religion was listed as Episcopalian, while Nancy was a Roman Catholic. They had seven children, ranging in age from 22 down to 7. All of the boys were listed as Episcopalians and all the girls were listed as Roman Catholics. Well, that's one way of dealing with the thorny issue of how to raise the children in a mixed marriage; seemingly arbitrary, but pragmatic.
BtheB

Tasmanian penile colony

I had some fun this week with the folks at Dreamscapes Travel & Lifestlye Magazine. I gladly receive this magazine every month or so as an insert to my Globe & Mail newspaper. The April, 2007, issue had an interesting article for travellers to Tasmania. Readers were directed to historic Sarah Island where adventure-seekers could visit a penile colony!
I couldn't resist emailing Dreamscapes Editor, Donna Vieira, to ask her for an exact definition of a 'penile colony'. I anticipated Donna's informed reply, by offering her my own suggestions. Perhaps a penile colony was: (A) a Viagra testing ground, (B) a gay male commune, or (C) a prison for male sex offenders. I praised her good work and told her to "keep it up".
I received Ms. Vieira's reply a mere 15 minutes later. She had received my email in the spirit with which I had intended. She commented on the unfortunate error regarding the misspelling of 'penal', the magazine's high standards in striving for excellence, and how four pairs of eye's proof every issue of Dreamscapes. She also thanked me for my light-hearted approach and encouragement.
Apparently, a correction has been made to the website versions of the article, thanks to my alertness in spotting the spelling mistake. Too bad, as I feel guilty now for denying other readers the chance to discover this delightful typo.
Here's hoping you have a bright spot in your day also. Please comment if you wish.
BarrytheBirder

Canada's real job in Afghanistan

"We seek him here, we seek him there,
Those Yankees seek him everywhere.
Is he in heaven? Is he in hell?
That damned, Osama Pimpernel."
-- with apologies to Baroness Emmuska Orczy and her character Sir Percy Blakeney

Canada's real reason for being in Afghanistan is to find Osama Bin Laden and hand his sorry ass over to George Bush and his buddies Cheney and Rove. Never mind that the U.S.'s rapacious imperialism brought on 9-11, or that it inexplicably didn't happen much earlier than it did. Canada is paying a price now, with its soldiers' blood, because of those unwitting Canadians who were blind-sided in the twin-towers tragedy. The U.S. was doing the job, of chasing Osama around the mountains of Afghanistan, pretty well I thought, until George diverted himself onto the Iraq side-track. Forget the rhetoric about our improving the lot of Afghans. We're way ahead of ourselves - and the Afghans. They are not ready to be 'saved' yet.
Our major contribution to Afghanistan, so far, has been to improve the country's infrastructure which in turn vastly improves and protects the growing of poppies and the production of heroin. This part of the Afghan economy is booming and helping the Taliban cause greatly. And the reward for Canada? There is none. And George Bush will forget us the day he walks out of the White House for the last time.
How long will we be there? Not when my one-year-old grandson turns 19, I hope, and preferably not long enough for one more 20-year-old, innocent Canadian to get blown to smithereens.
Please comment if you wish.
BtheB

Osprey back at Lake Jonda

It was -5C today with a wind chill of -13C. There were windy flurries over Lake Jonda on the King Campus of Seneca College. After an early thaw in March, which left the lake free of ice, it is now freezing up again around the edges. But today, April 6, 2007, there is an Osprey hovering over the lake and occassionally making a talons-first plunge into the the freezing water. I have not seen it rise with a fish yet, but I'm sure it is just a matter of time. In the interim, it withdraws to a broken treetop to rest-up for the next foray. I'm left to ponder whether the biological urge (eating, mating) is the most powerful of all nature's forces. (Internet photo by Bill Schmoker)
Please comment if you wish. BarrytheBirder

Bluebirds have arrived in King

Long-time King Township acquaintance, David Love, told me last Friday (Mar. 30) that Eastern Bluebirds had returned to his meadow on the King Ridge last week. It prompted me to check Cold Creek Forest and Wildlife Centre yesterday to see if they had returned there also. I didn't see any bluebirds but they should be back soon. Let's hope they hold off until the last bit of snow, forecasted for this week, has passed.
While I was there, I took the opportunity to put numbers on 12 new birdboxes and re-erect one birdhouse that had fallen to the ground last fall, when an old fence post toppled over. There are now 45 birdboxes at Cold Creek awaiting the spring migration. Last year every box was occupied, mostly by Tree Swallows and House Wrens, but also by a pair of bluebirds. Hopefully the bluebird count will increase this year.
The beauty of bluebirds is exceeded only by their instinctive intrepidity to get to nest sites on the breeding grounds early. Their delicate blue appearance seems to belie their ability to withstand cold, wet, early spring weather. The truth is that their first brood of babies often succumb to the elements, but later broods succeed. Nature often demands fearlessness from all of its creatures and doesn't make exceptions, not even for its prettiest jewels, such as the Eastern Bluebird.
Anyone attending Cold Creek Day on Sat., June 9th, may get to see one of these feathered treasures...details at www.coldcreekca.ca.

Lake Jonda ~ a King Township jewel

When I finished my last blog, it occured to me that there might be someone who would like to see the former Eaton Hall on Lake Jonda, near King City. I took this photo while participating in the 2003 Baillie Birdathon. Lady Flora Eaton apparently named Lake Jonda by incorporating letters from the first and second names of her son, John David Eaton.
Seneca College's King Campus will, for the first time, be hosting the 3rd Annual Kingfest Music Festival on June 23 and 24. Word is spreading that a 3rd day will be added to the outdoor weekend event. Headliners include Bruce Cockburn and Prairie Oyster. It will be a homecoming for Prairie Oyster founders, Keith Glass and Russ De Carle, who are King City natives. My younger brother Bob played and sang with Keith and Russ in their early days as the Humber Creek Boys and the King City Slickers. Kingfest will no doubt attract hundreds, perhaps thousands, who will get to see, for the first time, the former Eaton Family estate, which has become under the auspices of Seneca College, an ever-increasing ecological gem in King Township.
Please comment if you wish.
BtheB

Photo Quiz: Northern Ontario or King City?

If you guessed King City, you win! I took the above photo today, of a beaver dam on the grounds of Seneca College (King Campus), two or three hundred metres north of King City, and just 20 minutes from Toronto's northern border. Many young trees along the edges of the swamp, in the background, had been felled by the beaver for the construction of this dam. The dam is just steps away from the Oak Ridges Trail which traverses Seneca College's 700 acres and which was once the summer estate of the Eaton family. Further along the trail, I reached the lookout platform which offers a sweeping view of Lake Jonda. The old Eaton Hall, sits impressively on a hill, above the north shore of the lake and its Norman spires can be seen, above the treetops, from the lookout platform. But I am looking for birds, particularly spring migrants, and I am not disappointed. Out on the lake, amidst hundreds of Canada Geese, some of which are already on their nests, are a pair of Wood Ducks and three pairs of Ring-necked Ducks, swimming in circles, presumably as a prelude to mating. A few feet away from me is my first Song Sparrow of 2007. There are lots of the usual suspects out and about: Chickadees, Red-winged Blackbirds, Grackles, Starlings, Crows, a Red-tailed Hawk, Robins, some woodpeckers plus Black and Red Squirrels and one Cottontail Rabbit.
It was sunny and 18degreesC. today. In a few weeks, I'll be looking for the return of a pair of Ospreys (Fish Hawks, as oldtimers call them) over Lake Jonda. They nest on a very tall, large, metal light standard in the main Seneca parking lot, and do their fishing in the adjacent lake, which is full of Carp. In a few weeks, the Carp also will be thrashing about in the shallows of Lake Jonda, in response to the mating urge.
So plentiful and tame are the Carp, that my daughters, years ago when they were small children, would hand-feed scraps of bread and popcorn to the big fat fish from the shore of the lake...great fun! Below, left, are Wood Ducks and on the right is a Ring-necked Duck (Internet photos -not mine, unfortunately).
Well, I had a really nice day, today. I sincerely hope you did too.
BtheB

Gotta love those nuns

Old friend and avid curler, 'Doc' Gordon told me an interesting story this week. He was at a curling tournament in beautiful, downtown Fergus a few days ago, sitting near three of his cronies, who just happened to be sitting directly behind three nuns. It seems the nuns' habits, particularly their headpieces, were partially blocking the view of Doc's buddies. Hoping that they'd get annoyed enough to move to another area, one the three fellows said, in a very loud voice: "I think I'm going to move up to northern Ontario...there are only 100 nuns living there". One of the other two guys quickly added: "I want to go to western Ontario...there are only 50 nuns living there". The third one jumped in with: " Well, I'm headed for eastern Ontario...there are only 25 nuns living there". At that point, one of the nuns turned around, looked at the men, and said in a very firm, calm voice: "Why don't you just go to Hell! There aren't any nuns there".
Maybe you've noticed my photo, to the right of this piece. I shaved off my beard this week. I could say it was spring-cleaning, or I lost a bet, or my wife hates beards, but actually, I had promised my wife recently that I would try to mend my wicked ways and to prove I was sincere, I shaved off my beard as an act of good faith. I only draw your attention to the new photo, so that if we bump into each other in the street, you won't mistake me for some panhandler looking for change.
Please comment if you wish.
BtheB

Forward utterances...

" Global Warming not all bad for Canada"

March 21, 2017 - Stephen Harper (pictured above) celebrated his 10th anniversary as Canada's Prime Minister by attending a U.N. Canada/Kyoto Review Conference this week in Huntsville, Ontario. The conference was originally scheduled for Iqaluit, Nunavut, but the the territorial capital, on Baffin Island, is under 25 metres of polar melt-water. Speaking to reporters in Huntsville, which is now situated on the new southern coastline of Hudson Bay, Mr. Harper reiterated his government's bemusement with climate change and stated that "Global warming is not all bad for Canada". When pressed for details, the Prime Minister anounced that the latest figures show Canada's unemployment rate had reached zero percent for the first time in the country's 150-year history. He went on to explain that every last unemployed person in Canada was now on the federal payroll, after being conscripted to combat massive, nationwide coastal flooding. The only provinces not participating in this effort were P.E.I. and Newfoundland, which were both already completely submerged.

At one point, Mr. Harper, clad in protective gear, seemed to be overwhelmed by the sweltering 45C-degree, mid-March weather in the Muskoka resort town. He was revived with a cool drink by his staffers, who had helped him into the new Huntsville Global Warming Steakhouse & Beerhall, one of the latest franchise locations of the popular and rapidly expanding chain, owned by former Alberta Premier, Ralph Klein.

Revived, Mr. Harper announced his government's latest initiative, the Arctic Freshwater Left-Overs Program, will be renamed, after his Environment Minister, John Baird, complained that Canadians were insisting on referring to the program in its acronym form: A.F.L.O.P. The program is designed to divert Canadian Arctic melt-water to Arizona golf courses.

Later in the day, attempts were made to contact oppositions leaders for their reaction to the Prime Minister's pronouncements. Unfortunately, neither the NDP or Bloc leaders could be reached. Jack Layton was a guest of Hugo Chavez at a week-long beef barbecue in Venezuela and Gilles Duceppe was stomping grapes at Brian Mulroney's vineyard in grape hotspot, Chibougamau, Quebec. Liberal leader, Stephane Dion, was contacted but was only interested is telling reporters that he was legally changing his name to Steve Dion, in hopes of appealing to English-speaking voters who had for years been forgetting who he was.

Haiku for A.E.W-P. and N.M.W.

Rich beyond my dreams
Wealthy now and forever
With birds and flowers

Junco

The Wells Christening Gown

My new granddaughter Emondine Clare got to model her great-great-great grandmother Wells' christening gown recently and both she and her mother, Auralee, seemed pleased with the photo-shoot. The gown came from England in 1850 and has been used many times over the decades. This photo will go into the family history book I am writing.
I got lucky a short time ago when I discovered a branch of my wife's family that goes back 20 generations to the early 1400s. The ancient ancestor was named Richard Kingsnorth and he lived from 1434 to 1494. He was also known as Richard of Pluckley. Pluckley is a small village in Kent, England.
Now that I've almost finished my family history book, I've decided I should do some bonfide genealogy research so that I have some claim to credibility. I just hope the facts don't get in the way of a good story.

Haiku moments

In just one lifetime

One lives an infinity

Understanding time

Look to the mountain

Listen to the wind up there

Calling the climber

Eyes ears lips fingers

Yet all senses are but one

So many ways to see

My wife's hearing problem

I've been concerned recently that my wife, Linda, may not be hearing as well as she used to. I've wondered to myself if she might, in fact, need a hearing aid. I wasn't sure about how to approach her on the subject, so I chickened-out and called our family doctor to discuss the problem. He said he really needed to examine her but that there was a simple, informal test that I could perform which would give him a better idea about her hearing loss.
"Here's what you do", said our doctor. "Stand about 40 feet away from her and in a normal, conversational speaking-tone, see if she hears. If not, go to 30 feet, then 20 feet, and so on until you get a response".
That evening, Linda was in the kitchen cooking dinner, which I usually do but that is another story, and I was in the bedroom. I said to myself: "I'm about 40 feet away. Let's see what happens". In a normal tone I asked: "Honey, what's for dinner?" No response, so I stepped into the hallway, about 30 feet from Linda and repeated: "Honey, what's for dinner?" Still no response. Next I moved into the dining room where I'm about 20 feet from her and ask: "Honey, what's for dinner" Again, no response. So, I walked to the kitchen door, about 10 feet away: "Honey, what's for dinner?" Still no response.
So I walked up right behind her and asked: "Honey, what's for dinner?", to which she replied: "Barry, for the 5th time, CHICKEN!!!"
Well, obviously this story is a joke and my thanks to good friend Peter Marsh for sending it along. Usually, Pete's jokes are lewd, crude and rude, but occasionally he passes along one that I can actually tell in polite company.
And now that I've set tone for this blogabomination, here is another cute story, courtesy of daughter No. 2.
One day God was looking down at Earth and saw all of the rascally behaviour that was going on. So he called one of his angels and sent the winged spirit to Earth for a time. When the angel returned, he told God: "Yes, it is bad on Earth. 95% are misbehaving and only 5% are not". God was not pleased, so he decided to e-mail the 5% who were being good because he wanted to encourage them; give them a little something to help them keep the faith. Do you know what the e-mail said? Okay, I was just wondering -- I didn't get one either.
Please comment if you wish. BtheB

Testing the limits of Shoppers Drug Mart customer service

I just returned from doing business at my local Shoppers Drug Mart. I had purchased something earlier in the day, for my wife, brought it home to her and turned away, as she reached into the bag, pulled out the receipt, tore it up, and then looked at the two items I had bought. She immediately informed me they were the wrong kind, to which I replied: "No problem...you've got the receipt, right?" She said: "Well yes, but I tore it all up"; to which I said: " You what?!?" Back to the store, with the hand-shredded receipt and the wrong merchandise, where I picked up two packages of the correct merchandise and headed to the check-out. Fortunately, no one lined up behind me so I wasn't about to delay or inconvenience anyone. Clutching my bag from the earlier visit, I set down the two correct items and said to the pleasant young cashier: "I'd like to buy these, please". I also quickly set down the two incorrect items and said: "...and I want to return these, which I bought by mistake earlier today".
"Yes, sir" she replied. " Do you have a sales receipt?" I said yes and opened my Shoppers Drug Mart bag for her to see the 20 tiny bits of paper. She immediately picked up her phone and said: "Supervisor to Cash 2 for a refund". Moments later, the supervisor arrived and the cashier says to her: "He would like to buy these two and return these two". The first thing the supervisor says is: "Does he have a receipt?" I piped up: " I certainly do", and opened my bag again to show the supervisor the 20 tiny bits of ravaged receipt.
"But it's all torn up...why did you do that?", she asked. I explained it happened before discovering the mistake about the wrong type of product , and that it was common practise, in our house, to tear up receipts for small, every-day purchases, as soon as we got home. I further explained that the receipts have our credit card number on them, and that one couldn't be too careful in this day and age of identity theft, etc., etc.
"I'll have to get my manager over here", said the supervisor. The supervisor started to explain to her manager and hadn't got very far when the manager asked: "Does he have a receipt?" There are now five customers lined up behind me, shuffling their feet and sighly loudly. I don't acknowledge them. Bad enough I'm wearing my floppy beret and looking like a wierdo anyway, without opening my mouth and saying something to the three guys in baseball caps and proving it.
The manager asks the supervisor if one of the tiny remnants of sales receipt has a transaction number on it. The supervisor replies one may, but that she doesn't know which one. The manager suggests that all three of them quickly examine the scraps, which they do, and a refund procedure begins. While I am filling out a form with much self-incriminating information, the cashier is swiping my credit card and my Shoppers Optimum points card several times and the manager is at another computer station producing an internal bookkeeping document. There are now seven people lined up behind me and the supervisor takes charge by gathering up all the detritus of this awkward affair and asks me to accompany her to another check-out, where we can be alone.
Mercifully, at no time has a discussion taken place about the actual product I'm buying: a laxative. I sign my name one last time and feel guilty because the two products I'm returning to the good folks at Shoppers are worth $45, and the two I am ultimately walking out with cost just $16.
Home once more, I now have two perfect receipts; a refund receipt and a purchase receipt, which I stare at momentarily. I notice that my credit card number reads as 12 asterisks plus four numbers. Well, I'll be damned! They don't print out your whole 16-digit credit card number. The two receipts sit beside me now, as I finish reflecting on this shopping adventure. I'm about to tear them up. Old habits die hard.
BtheB

Canada in February - cold as a witch's heart

When I lived for a year on my grandfather Thomas' farm, at Churchill, Ontario, in the early 50s, he would come into the house during the winter and say: "It's as cold as a witch's heart out there". Yesterday, I walked to the post office and it was minus 15 celsius -- minus 25 wind chill! I couldn't help but think of Sid Thomas. Later in the day, I was watching Global News and its weather report didn't even mention actual temperatures. Instead, they reported wind chill numbers only. Has it come to that? Do television stations have to sensationalize not just the hard news of the day, but also the temperature? Before they get too carried away, I want to announce I have created my own ultra-sensational temperature factor. I take the temperature in degrees celsius, factor in the wind chill, the snow I have to shovel in centimetres, my increased body temperature because of the lousy cold I have, and the number of days until spring. This means that yesterday actually felt like minus 96 celsius. Let's see, that would make it as a cold as...hmmmm...a polar bear's butt?...a Steven Harper smile?...a Dalton McGuinty promise?...a Toronto Maple Leafs winning streak? Oh, the hell with it. Who am I to try to improve on my grandfather's perfectly good aphorism.
Please comment if you wish.
BtheB

I sing live with The Rankin Family at Massey Hall

I sang live with The Rankin Family last night, at Massey Hall, in Toronto. They were on stage of course, while I was sitting in Row K, left-centre orchestra. We sounded great together. It was one of those terrific occasions where everyone was singing along, so Linda didn't have to dig me in the ribs with her elbow to shush me. It was an event, a party, a love-in, a ceilidh in the kitchen. The Rankins had the joint jumpin'. We were hootin' and hollerin', and dancing in the aisles. They did old and new material and Linda and I agreed it was one of the best concerts we had ever attended. What incredible talent and sound. The sisters, Raylene, Cookie and Heather have voices like bells, with tremendous range and power. The evening started off with Dawn Langstroth, Ann Murray's daughter. She sounds a bit her mum, but has a great voice of her own and is a pretty good songwriter. She was followed by Seth Lakeman from Dartmoor, U.K. His singing was more howling, but his fiddling was mesmerizing. His closing number was a combination of foot-stomping and frenzied fiddling that sounded like a wild North-Atlantic storm crashing ashore at his native Cornwall. Seth is also known as 'The Troubadour of the Moor'.
Speaking of south-west England, some of the research I have done for my family history book focussed on Exmoor in north Devon. Some of Linda's ancestors came from Barnstaple and Brayford, on the west side of Exmoor. I mentioned these places to an English friend and he said they were very close to his home village. I told Linda the name of the place, but she doubted very much that any relatives of hers would have come from a place named Much Piddling in the Bog. I myself have ancestors who once inhabited the moors of western Lancashire at a small and scurrilous crossroads named Diddling on the Moor.
Please comment if you wish.
BtheB

Forward utterances...

"Send in more troops!"

January 28, 2030 - An 85-year-old George Bush is pictured above, at the shooting range on Dick Cheney's ranch 'Baghdad', in Mexico, the newest American state. Mr. Bush was captured by photographers advising a successor president on foreign affairs. (with apologies to Norman Mailer)